Russell was vaguely aware of a voice. Although his attention was still far too occupied with the oppressive heat around him to register who the voice belonged to, he was able to recognize that it was speaking a language he could understand. And speaking to him. Encouraging him to open his eyes. But tricking him was more likely the intention behind the voice; he barely had an interest in keeping his eyes open throughout normal days, so how could he possibly be able to open them now? He wouldn’t have been surprised if the unexpected blaze of the Sun in the underground classroom had resulted in total vision loss. Maybe that would be for the best.

He didn’t want to - couldn’t bear to open his eyes now, and he certainly didn’t plan to - couldn’t stand to look at it, regardless of the voice’s opinions that supported or opposed or whatever exactly was happening. He was losing track. However, Russell had not yet lost track (again) of the point of whatever exactly was happening. Forcing open one eye, staring directly down under his forearm at the floor, he thought the spell over and over and imagined something that was the opposite of the Sun. Cool, and small, and hard…

...and then the brightness of the room left the realms of hellfire and went back to normal-light-pain. The tall yet currently very stooped-over sixth-year gingerly lowered his arm, and finally opened the other eye, too, glancing up just in time to see a medium-sized round disc fall down from the air and bounce up again off the floor. A disbelieving sound left Russell’s lungs, somewhere between a panicky chuckle and exhausted grunt. The paper wrapping declared that the disc was a cheese wheel. Had he really been thinking of cheese as the opposite of the Sun? No, that… that couldn’t be right. Cheese just reminded him of Jaws. He was supposed to have made the Boggart into something funny, not something disheartening. Still, after a second, much slighter bounce, it rolled off, landing in front of another student he couldn’t be bothered to identify and swirling up to take a new form he wasn’t interested in sticking around to watch.

Not only ‘wasn’t interested’. Russell was already gone. Taking small quick steps back to his former seat beside Holland, he gingerly lowered himself down, knees drawn to his chest in an attempt to feel more solid against the ground. His head was pounding and there was a nervous energy shaking through his skinny frame, one that could nearly convince him capable of imagining his bones rattling against each other. There had to be something he could do to distract himself from this. “S-still embarrassed?” he offered up. Anyone else might’ve been able to make the words friendlier, but he was unable to look at Holland, or anyone, just staring straight ahead through now-crooked sunglasses and feeling his cheeks burn with heat from inside this time. He should probably say something else - a joking offer to trade exposing his disability for his relationships, a wish that he’d skipped class today, commentary on Professor Embers’ teaching methods, anything, really - but his mind was blank except for the splitting headache.

Holland stared at Russell, unsure of how to respond. He obviously hadn’t understood what they were saying, the way straight people usually didn’t understand when you made a joke about not being... more

When Russell returned, he sat down on the floor like a Jenga tower collapsing. Holland stared at the younger student, slightly alarmed. Was Russell shaking? He looked genuinely frightened. Holland... more